


A place in time

by torres



Category: Football RPF
Genre: F/M, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-10-03
Updated: 2013-10-03
Packaged: 2017-12-28 07:59:56
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 523
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/989662
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/torres/pseuds/torres
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Stevie knows early on who he wants to spend the rest of his life with.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A place in time

**Author's Note:**

> Just a little fluff to pass the time while I write the XXX finale!

When Stevie was five, he came home from preschool one day and told his mom he had found the girl he was in love with. She was his seatmate and she was the first girl he knew who didn’t eat his paste.

“I’m going to marry her one day, ma.” He proudly declared as he trooped into their house after classes.

Naturally, his mother just laughed. “You can’t get married yet, young man.”

“But, ma!” He cried out.

His mother perched on the couch and pulled the little boy on to her lap, “Why, what are you looking for in a girl anyway, hmm?”

Stevie frowned, but he was an obedient one. He carefully listed, “She’ll have blond hair. Long, blond hair that looks like...” he paused and intently wrapped his mom’s hair around his fingers, “Like, rings.”

“Curls,” his mom corrected.

Stevie repeated, “Curls,” carefully experimenting how the new sound felt on his tongue.

“And she’ll have big eyes. Like,” Stevie put his fingers around his eyes and stretches them wider, “Like, Bambi.”

“And her eyes will be blue?” Stevie’s mother asked, smiling knowingly. “That’s what all the boys fall for, you know.”

Stevie frowned to consider it, before breaking into a toothless grin. “No!”

The elderly woman raised her eyebrows in confusion. “Really?”

Stevie answered thoughtfully. “Not blue. Brown,” he decided. He pressed his index finger against the corner of his mother’s left eye, “Brown, like yours.”

And his mother laughed heartily, her eyes disappearing under the folds of her skin as she chuckled.

“Brown eyes,” she repeated.

Stevie nodded vehemently and beamed, “Yes. Brown. Like chocolate.”

“Well, don’t worry,” she said, pressing a soft kiss to the top of her son’s head. “One day, you’ll find a girl with long blond curls and big brown eyes, and you’ll marry her.”

Stevie doesn’t know if the girl who sat beside him in preschool class that one day ended up being Alex Curran. But twenty-something years later, his mother’s prediction is right, and he’s marrying the most beautiful girl in the city. She has long blond curls and big brown eyes and she was taking Steven Gerrard’s name.

Many more years and two daughters later, Stevie meets Fernando Torres.

His hair isn’t even blond – it’s colour right out of a packet, and it changes every few months. Sometimes it’s dirty blonde, sometimes it’s the strawberry kind; other times, maybe orange, others, maybe dyed all the way until it’s platinum and flaxen.

His hair is ironed straight and stiff, except when he’s just gotten out of the shower or the rain or water poured out of a bottle on a hot summer’s day. Then, it’s stringy and frizzed and barely just curls under his collar.

But his eyes are wide when he talks to Stevie, and even when he laughs, Stevie could still fall right into them.

And they’re brown. Thick and coated brown like when he stares up into the sun and writes his name in the sky, his eyes are creamy and milky chocolate and suddenly, Stevie is five years old on his mother’s lap again, and he’s falling in love.


End file.
